


Project Morty

by orphan_account



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Gen, Rick and Morty - Freeform, crazy huh, i cant believe rick married science, its a gen fic what did you expect, kill me why did i write this, other than beth/jerry theres no relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'll write more but.....????????? is this any good???? kill me?????? ?</p></blockquote>





	Project Morty

 

                Another day, another adventure, another possibility of a gruesome death, including a very visceral dismemberment and or the agonizing pain felt as all the organs one by one explode. Morty lived to deal with Rick's requests; Morty do this, Morty do that, Morty, do you have that thingy I made that is supposed to fix everything but instead destroys all that you love and basically fucks you up forever? Day after dangerously adventurous day, Morty was his grandfather's scientific assistant, a glorified servant and a useless sidekick. Sure, he has some roles in these trips to other planets, other dimensions; sometimes other timelines, linking up with the here and now sometimes in between. Of course, Rick needed Morty, but it's not like being the leader of these 'expeditions' would change much for the grandson of an insane drunk, fueled by a library of knowledge, bursting at the seams, and the intelligence far surpassing those whom surrounded him. It would be nice, however, if Morty could catch a break in all this.

                Laying flat on his back, sprawled across his bed, the child looked up at his bedroom ceiling, the plush comforter flung off his awkward body. The aches and pains of being flung around by a 10ft tall space monster still throbbed throughout him, and he groaned as he sat up, looking around his room. Being a tool was hard work, Morty thought to himself, dragging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up, making his way across the room to pull on a large yellow jumper. It was nice to mix things up, but he did like wearing yellow. After squeezing into a pair of dark grey skinny jeans he pulled on some mix-n-match socks and headed downstairs. It was getting colder by the day, making the polished wood floors feel like ice. Morty didn't even want to THINK about the tiles in the bathroom.  
               

                "W-well, look who decided to d-drag themselves out of bed" Rang a familiar voice, followed by a wet burp. Morty's grandfather, Enrique Sanchez, or Rick, sat at the kitchen table, something metallic and sticky spread across the tablecloth in front of him. With a defiant frown, the shivering kid gave a stuttering remark;

                "Y-you know what, Rick. I- You know--"

                "Save it for later, M-Morty. We gotta... We gotta--" There was a lot of interrupting in this house, as Morty interrupted his grandfather, after having been interrupted himself.

                "No, we DON'T gotta do anything! I'm, I'm sick and tired of h-having to do this and th-that. I've said it before b-but I mean it this time!" Morty's heart almost jumped up into his mouth when he saw Rick look back up at him, hands covered in metallic gel and eyes glazed over, bloodshot. The old man sniffed, a frown plastered over his weathered face. After a shaky sigh he got up from the table and went to wash his hands, speaking when he was done drying them off.

                "You're r-right. Take the day off, M-Morty; you've earned I-it." After burping a few times, Rick pulled a bottle opener out of a pocket on his lab coat, setting it on the counter as he rummaged around in the fridge. Pulling out a bottle of beer, he popped off the cap and took a long drink, setting that on the counter as well. Morty watched the old man, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth.

                "What? Th-that's it...?" Tugging at the hem of his jumper, Morty looked down at his colorful socks for a moment, looking back up at his grandfather after a few seconds. Sure, he'd love a day off to just do whatever, but Rick was never this passive...

                "What do you think 't-take the day off' means? I-if you keep acting like a d-dumbass all the time I mi-might just have to st--" Another disgusting burp, "Stop taking you a-along." Rick took another drink of his beer, and with that he took the bottle with him as he walked to the garage without another word, leaving Morty to stare at his feet some more.  
For the first time in a long while, Morty didn't know what to feel. Usually he felt scared, surprised, even angry at Rick, but now he was just confused. Stop standing around like a dumbass, you dumbass, he thought. With a sigh, Morty snapped out if his weird trance and began to make himself a breakfast of freezer waffles, a sliced apple and a vitamin cocktail. Since he'd slept in a bit, Mom had already gone to work, and Dad was probably at the store or something, Sarah with her friends, and now Rick in the garage. The house to himself, Morty plugged his headphones in and turned up some music real loud. A little dance while making a lame little breakfast always cheered him up at least a teeny bit.

                Sitting down at the table by himself, he bounced in his chair, scarfing down the waffles and apples, swallowing the vitamins as he skipped around the kitchen sink, rinsing his plate to put in the dishwasher. What was he supposed to do with no crazy alien adventure ahead of him? Watch TV and become a slug, obviously. Sprawled across the stiff couch, Morty flipped between channels, a bowl of chips resting on his chest as he decided what to watch. Eventually he gave up and left it on some movie channel, currently playing a cheesy zombie drama, interrupted by strange commercials for all-you-can-eat shrimp for 4.99.  
After an hour and a half of 80's zombie makeup and steamy plates of crustaceans, Morty practically rolled off the couch, chips crunching as he hit the rug. With a groan he sat up, crumbs falling off his jumper and now littering the living room rug like salty stars on a chevron sky. Rubbing his warm face, Morty yawned sluggishly and slowly stood up, turning off the TV and stumbling back to the kitchen to get more chips. As he poured more salty stars into his half planet bowl, he noticed the door to the garage was ajar. What was grandpa Rick doing?

                Setting the big bowl on the counter, Morty went to close the door, but thought of at least checking on Rick, make sure he was doing ok. As he stepped into garage he frowned, looking around.

                "Uhh... R-Rick?" Morty called into the empty garage, walking over to the desk where his grandfather's computer rest, along with some assorted papers, a scary looking device and a clump of what looked like an ember-y pile of ash. "Rick, I-I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier I j-just--"

                "Sh-shut up, Morty. You--" The old man had opened the hatch in the middle if the garage, climbing up and startling Morty, whom interrupted Rick with a shrill scream. "Whoa there, M-Morty no need to start having s-some kind of fear orgasm o-or whatever this is." Rick burped as he fiddled with stuff on his desk, quietly laughing to himself. On any other given day Morty wouldn't be surprised by his grandfather randomly crawling out of the subterranean hole in their garage, but something about that zombie movie had him on edge.

               "Wh-What? No, I just--"

                "You just what, Morty? C'mon, I need you to hold this for me." In the man's hand was a sparkling blue crystal, held out to Morty, whom sighed and walked over, taking the heavy crystal into his small, soft hands. The floor of the garage froze his feet, even with socks on.

                "You really need me to hold this? It-it's pretty cold out here..." Mom had talked about getting a space heater for the garage, since Rick spent so much time out here, but never got around to it. Christmas was right around the corner, and it was still freezing in here, the stone flooring like a frozen lake; Well, more sturdy than that, but just as cold.

                 "Stop your bitching, Morty. Just hold the damn c-crystal for like five minutes. N-nerd to get the quantum atomizer working and th-then I can get the crystal vaporized." Rick went on and on about the science behind this gun-like thing he was waving around, tinkering with a screwdriver, and occasionally smacking against the desk as he 'fixed' it. He did more effort than any commercial car mechanic shop, but it still looked like the work of one, to some degree.

                 "Rick, I thought I was supposed to be off the hook today?" Morty tried his best not to stutter, but his voice still cracked, as usual. The both of them had terrible stuttering habits.

                "Yeah, maybe for like a few hours. I-it's 1pm now, though, so you gotta--" Mid sentence the scientist burped, his breath heavy with alcohol. "You gotta get back to it, Morty. We got w-work to do." After another smack, he pointed the 'atomizer' at a plastic container on the desk, bits of food stuck to the interior. With a pull from the trigger the tupperware that contained his lunch not to long ago was turned to a tiny patch of dust and a vaporized cloud of plastic atoms. "N-now put the crystal on the desk, Morty."

                With a frown, Morty reluctantly set down the rather heavy crystal right where the tupperware used to be. He felt the plastic particles tickle his throat, causing him to cough violently for a moment. Rick lowered his new gun and gave a puzzled look to him, asking if he was alright, but adding some remark Morty couldn't hear over himself coughing again.

                "I'm fine, Rick... F-fine." Stepping back, Morty watched as Rick atomized the crystal, quickly sucking it up in a little vacuum-like device, putting it in a box labeled 'serious drugs'. "R-really? You needed my help so you could make even more drugs for yourself? M-maybe if you stopped getting high a-all the time you could sort things o-out and you wouldn't be in any more p-pain."

                Rick put the box back with the others, all full of shit he never even used half the time. "Who told you I was i-in pain?" The old man now faced his grandson, a frown starting to creep across his chapped lips, the corner of his mouth wet with spit.  
"N-no one! You show everyone a-all the signs and expect us not t-to know! I want to help, Rick, I do... B-but it's hard when you always--"

                "What? I always what? You're trying Morty, I r-respect that. I'm just trying too, a-and it isn't going according to plan." The first thing ever to come out of Rick's mouth that wasn't sarcastic, rude or gibberish, and Morty felt like crying. His grandfather was in deep pain, according to bird person, and those words put Morty into a passive stage of despair. All these signs had been flying by, like the trees on each side of the highway as a car drives toward it's destination on a winding road, far past the horizon. As poetic as his thoughts sound, Morty felt so stupid all the time. He wished he could be smart like Rick, be able to build things, create formulas, save people. But all he could do is hold a dumb crystal so his grandpa could make drugs. Pathetic.  
Unfortunately, Morty's thoughts were interrupted by a low growl coming from below the garage. He snapped out of his own depressing thoughts to give an expression of alarm to Rick, whom looked just as confused as Morty.

                "Sounds like th-that portal started working, thank god."

                "What portal...?" Morty tried, again, not to stutter, looking down into the 'basement' as Rick climbed down. When he didn't hear an answer after the man had gone down he called into the darkness. "R-Rick?! What p-portal?"  
In the depths of the room below, Morty could see some sort of creature slither in the shadows, only catching a few glimpses of limbs and a smooth but shiny skin stretched over a bony frame. Four blinking eyes in the single column of light stared up at Morty, and a set of jagged teeth expanded to smile at the boy.

                On instinct, Morty screamed and shot back. Whatever that was, it had done something to Rick, and Morty too if he didn't move his ass.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll write more but.....????????? is this any good???? kill me?????? ?


End file.
